


While The World Sleeps

by slyyywriting



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Brainwashing, Clinical Trials, Eventual Smut, F/M, Human Experimentation, Manipulation, Mentions of getting an abortion, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29534280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyyywriting/pseuds/slyyywriting
Summary: A sleeper agent is placed by HYDRA to infiltrate the Avengers and tear them from the inside in order to retrieve Soldat. Meanwhile, Bucky falls for the new Avengers’ Public Relations Manager as she helps renovate the super-soldier’s terrible ( horrible, no good, very bad) reputation.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. DEAD DROP

**Author's Note:**

> General Warnings: angst, mutual pining, mind control and behavioral manipulation, portrayal of symptoms of PTSD
> 
> A/N: The author likes to inflict unnecessary pain upon herself (and others) by writing love stories that are unconventional and hard.
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated! Tell me what you think.

**_Five years ago…_ **

The waiting room smelled stale. Of the million things to think of right now, your brain somehow managed to hyper-concentrate on the scent that permeated the area you were sitting in. You bounce your leg in an attempt to regain focus on the task at hand—finishing up the form on your lap. This wasn’t supposed to be hard. All you had to do was fill up basic questions: name, age, sex, address and medical history. Then at the bottom there are various check boxes for possible illnesses that might lead to complication. Simple.

You run your left hand over your belly as your leg continues to shake away the gnawing anxiety that has somehow managed to latch on despite weeks of decision making.

“Sorry little dude. I can’t really afford to have you.” You whisper to the bump beneath your oversized sweater. “And I don’t think I’d be a good mother right now…”

You return to answering the sheet before you before huffing out a long exhale and submitting the paper to the woman at the counter. She gives you a small smile, something between comforting and not caring. You weren’t really the first woman to walk into their office and ask for help with the aftermath of unprotected random one night stands. Nor were you going to be the last one. You respond with a tight lipped smile, not sure what else to do before she tells you she’ll call you when you’re good to go.

When your name is called again, you’re lead to a room with a counselor. A woman in a bohemian shirt dress and gray slacks greets you with a genuine smile. Apparently it was important to talk about the circumstances that lead you to deciding why you were signing up for a life cancellation, so you tell her the truth: you weren’t ready and could not afford to raise them. You had plans and it did not include a child.

“What about adoption?” she asks carefully, scribbling away into a note pad.

But you shake your head quickly in response.

“I can’t do that to them. It would be cruel of me to do so.” You tell her straight. You’ve made up your mind.

Next thing you know, you’re getting signed off with a bag of pills and a follow up schedule for post-abortion services. You get into your car and drive back to your university campus just in time for you the lecture you promised you’d substitute for.

After two weeks, you walk back into the clinic as indicated by your service plan. A full medical check followed by counseling was conducted. The pills had worked and there were no side effects, you were good to go. The counseling continued for four more sessions, each better than the last one as you began to return to your normal self. Without the possible interruption to your dreams, you told the colorful woman that you were performing better in your job and even finally had the courage to seek better opportunities. On your last session you left the clinic feeling a hundred times lighter and ready to take the world head on.

As you cross the car park the counselor calls after you. “Hey, look, I usually don’t offer this to everyone but I thought it would help you out.”

She hands you a flyer with red and black prints. You scan it and see that it’s for an experimental contraceptive developed by a new pharmaceutical company. Not yet FDA approved since the formula is new.

“The drug is on hold since there’s not enough data to go with but it’s cheaper and way safer than most of the pills on the market now. Less side effects too. If you’re interested you should check them out. They pay well.” She smiles and shrugs before waving off. “Might help women like you to stay on track or something.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll check it out.” You wave back chuckling at her teasing and get into the driver’s seat. Making a few extra bucks for free birth control? Why not, right?

A week later you find yourself in a pristine room of the Lernaean Pharmaceuticals. The jig was simple, you were going to sign forms, get injected with the drug and check in after a week to get checked. If any side effects appear sooner, you were told to come back immediately. If not, you were required to come back every two weeks for testing and sampling. The initial pay was at $1700 then $800 per check up. Easy as pie.

The first injection was given six months ago and you were currently on your tenth check up. So far everything was great. The drug was way better than anything in the market and no side effects were present. You were friendly with the lab tech by now as you sit and have your blood drawn.

“I told you she’d like the flowers!” You tease Jeremy, the same guy who’s been drawing your blood for weeks. He was trying to ask out a girl from marketing and you’d helped him out.

“Yeah, you were right. She liked it so much she asked me to have lunch later.” He smirks as he accepts your teasing.

“Good for you man!” you squeal at the news and slap him playfully, chuckling at his new found confidence.

“Hey, no moving around too much. I’ll get your blood checked, why don’t you sit back and relax. Be back in an hour.” He chuckles before carrying various vials of your blood out of the lab shooting you a wink before he disappears.

You smile to yourself and sink further into the leather chair getting comfortable. Unknowingly, you close your eyes and drift into an immediate deep sleep, your body slack against the back rest. The lights inside the room change color and a couple of people in lab coats enter the room with a trolley in tow. The mirror on the wall changes as well and reveals to be a window with various men in suits behind it.

One of the men in a white coat readjusts your body into the chair and pulls straps from the sides before restraining you and placing a bunch of electrodes into your head as another injects a blue solution in to your forearm. The third one, wearing glasses perched on the tip of his nose, face seemingly in a permanent scowl, glances to one of the suit-wearing men at the window and nods.

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming in today. This is subject 883-T, currently the only remaining viable candidate for Project Aurora. Our new serum was designed to constitute compliance for the subjects that is to be activated by a series of fluorescent codes and electromagnetic radiation. Subjects injected with the serum shall be made to comply without being aware that they are under our control. Observe.” The man wearing the glasses looks away from the window before nodding to one of his assistants.

The lights inside the lab are all turned off before a device that looked like a giant lamp is placed directly in front of our face. With a push of a button, the electrodes attached to you activate and send an electric current into your brain, the jolt waking you up promptly. As you struggle from the pain, the device in front of you blinks to life, emitting various lights in a pattern only you can see. You start to grunt from the pain before it turns into a full scream, causing a shrill tone to bounce around the white walls of the room.

As the device slows down and finally whirs to silence, so does your screaming replaced by hard breathing. Your chest rises and falls harshly before calming down completely. The two men proceed to remove straps from your wrists and feet and pull away to reveal you sitting straight.

“Subject 883-T, assessment.” The man with the glasses commands.

“Ready to comply.” You respond coldly, the voice that comes out of your throat not entirely your own.

The man adjusts his specs with a feral grin before turning around to the audience that has now lumped near the window. The man nearest to the glass smirks and nods.

“She’s ready.” The assistant declares rubbing his hands together before pointing a flashlight into your eyes. Your pupils do not respond and remain dilated despite a direct light being shined into them. Your face is stoic, like a statue unmoving and cold.

“Well done, Doctor. Prep everything we need. Drop will be in three days.” The man at the window says into the intercom. He’s smirking as his plans are getting confirmed and a sense of joy blooms across his body. The sound of his cane echoes as he walks out of the observation deck.

**_Present Day…_ **

You’re frantically running around in four-inch heels around a studio trying to locate a specific super soldier who managed to evade your staff for the eleven-hundredth time. You look left and right as you pass various halls, shoes clip clapping with every determined step. You were not going to lose your job just because someone decided that he was going to make your life hard. You stomp down another hallway when low murmurs catch your attention into a room with its door ajar.

You peek in and see a bunch of kids surrounding the person you were looking for. Quickly, you pull out your phone and snap quick photos of the scene before you get caught. The man subject of the search was smiling over kids on his knees, signing various items they were handing him. When he’s done he pats their tiny heads and giggles with them. You clear your throat and catch his attention replacing his smile with a frown.

“Found you!” you declare in a sing-song tone. The man replies with a grunt before getting up and straightening his pants. He smiles once more at the children before he exits the room, you behind his trail.

“Come on, Mr. Barnes—“

“—Bucky”

“Mr. Bucky, right.” You grin knowing how much he hates that. “It’s not going to be as bad as the last one!”

Bucky is still walking down the length of the corridor, no specific direction just anywhere away from you and your litany of trickery into having him agree to this interview. You speed up and walk steadily next to him still grinning. He looks down at your cutely annoying face and huffs through his nose.

“That’s what you said last time too.” He grits through his teeth, eyeing a fire exit just down the next left. “But then it turned out bad too, didn’t it, dollface?”

“Pssh, well that guy was an asshole with a failed website, of course he was going to ask you dumb things. This time, it’s for a television program!” You try to convince him, dreading the constant vibrations in your coat pocket. Probably the show producer having an aneurysm at the lacking guest appearance. You clasp your hands together and place them below your chin, “Please, Mr. Bucky, Sir? I promise I’ll be in your line of sight the whole time so you can signal me of you want to run away.”

Bucky finally stops walking, shifting slightly to turn and face you. You were merely a foot away from him, pleading like a kitten. All that was left was for you to lick your paws and twitch you tail and you’d be just like his pet cat Alpine, spoilt rotten. You would probably do anything for him just to pin his ass on that red sofa in front of the studio audience.

“Fine but you owe me.” He grumbles looking up on the ceiling because he could not take you looking at him like that for a second longer.

You screech a yes and hop slightly when he finally agrees before you grab both his hands and drag him backstage. He rolls his eyes and the side of his mouth quirks slightly upwards at your effort to pull, using all of your strength against him. He lets up, taking pity at you and tries not to be much of dead weight anymore but still enjoying your physical effort.

When you finally reach the backstage, the host of the show has started the introductions for the program and a line of Avengers is waiting to be called on. The Falcon, Black Widow and Captain America simultaneously turn around when they hear you heaving his ass to the waiting area, eyebrows shooting up at the picture before them. Bucky snarls lowly when he sees Sam Wilson snickering at him.

“Told you he’s heavier than me.” Sam comments while you catch your breath after such a physical task.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re still heavy though.” You try to control a wheeze coming out. This job was all sorts of things but you didn’t know super soldier hauler was one of them.

Sam laughs and shakes his head, listening back to the host on the stage and you turn your attention back to one James Barnes who was currently stink eyeing a stage assistant who was attempting to equip him with a microphone. You sigh and take the mic from the guy before he pees himself.

“You know, it wouldn’t _kill_ you to not have your murder face on.” You tease as you untuck and lift his shirt placing the microphone wire underneath carefully. He grunts at you before looking at the various stage hands around currently in awe of how you’re handling him. When the mic is finally clipped to the collar of his shirt, you place your hand on his metal arm and turn him around to clip the receiver on the band of his pants. You turn him around again to fix the front of his shirt.

Bucky stays still while you manhandle him, the only person he really allows to do that to him. Or you’re the only one aside from the three other supers next to him who was brave (or stupid) enough to make physical contact with him. He was more than thankful for the level of normal that you treat him aside from the constant special attention you allow him due to the fact that he was the one the public had the most opinions about, making him your number one priority for each and every promotion you set up. He looks down at you with an almost covert smirk. _Almost_.

“Just have fun out there, okay? Graham’s really nice and he was very considerate with his questions. He wants to showcase the lighter side of Team Cap so I’m sure he’ll focus on fun anecdotes and not on the _murders_.” You cheer him up by fake whispering the last word.

“Oh, stop babying him.” Sam rolls his eyes, elbowing Natasha Romanoff who was busy pretending not to be paying attention at your banter. “Tin man only acts out because you coddle him.”

Bucky almost chuckles, if it weren’t for his reputation in public and the hundred pairs of eyes around him he would have let it out. But he didn’t, so instead you pat his left peck twice and usher him nearer to the others. Steve Rogers clasps his shoulder when he’s near enough and smiles at you mouthing a thank you. You wink at the Captain and give all of them two thumbs up before the host finally calls their names and they leave for the stage one by one. Bucky takes a quick glance at you before he steps out and you nod at him encouragingly.

You quickly circle back to the front of the stage and position yourself next to the teleprompter. Bucky who was sitting stiffly visibly relaxes as soon as he sees you, leaning back more on the couch’s backrest finally able to register the talking host.

“Speaking of hot, we have James Buchanan Barnes here with us!” Graham Norton segways into baiting Bucky in on the conversation and Sam shift a bit to look at his friend, grinning from ear to ear. The crowd erupts in cheers and some wolf whistling.

The former assassin stares out into the audience before his eyes land on you briefly. You’re pulling two fingers over your mouth in a curve, prompting him to smile. Bucky’s mouth twitches before settling on a shaky grin causing another frenzy from the crowd.

“Wow, look at that! This is why people refer to you as a killer, huh James.” Graham quips and even Natasha can’t help but laugh and turn to look at him. Steve’s clapping nervously but also smiles. “Well, we have a couple of photos…”

The host shows various photos of Bucky in his tactical suit while in public, each getting a cheer from the crowd. After a couple of pictures, he stops on a candid photo of Bucky at the compound, shirtless and glistening in sweat while wearing cargo pants. It was one from months ago when Tony has invited a photographer on the grounds to take photos of the life of Avengers.

“I think we can all agree that you’re the hottest assassin out there in world right now.” Graham comments and gestures to Bucky who suddenly felt thirsty as hell, reaching for one of the drinks on the table.

“I thought I was the hottest assassin, Graham?” Natasha responds and points to herself, baring all her teeth as she smiles, making the audience crack up but agree with her.

“That’s only true because I’m not an assassin anymore.” Bucky takes a quick sip and continues to speak, “I’m the hottest Avenger now.”

Bucky puts down the drink and winks at the crowd. They go wild at the random fan service and even Sam can’t help but be impressed, bumping fists with his best-frenemy. Natasha chortles and leans her head on Steve’s shoulder, who is shaking his head at the unexpected comment.

The rest of the show goes off without a hitch, earning a lot of laughs from everyone in the studio. Even the crew and other personnel were impressed at the lightness of the vibe during the interview, the image of the Winter Soldier slowly being erased and replaced with James Barnes’s surprising charisma.

The news of the successful show reaches the compound so as soon as the jet lands and all of you walk into the lounge five hours later, Tony greets everyone with champagne and a two-day rest.

“Barnes, you did well, despite the slander of you being the hottest piece of ass on the team. Also none of this would have been possible without this genius over here!” Tony waves an arm to signal you to stand next to him and he kisses the top of your head loudly when you’re within reach. You giggle and curtsy a bit at the acknowledgement. “To our new disaster manager!”

Everyone cheers your name and downs the champagne in one gulp.

“Thank you, Tony. On that good note, I want another raise.” You clink your glass with his and wink before walking off to sit down on one of the couches, flopping down noisily.

“That can be arranged!” Tony calls out to you, turning his attention back to his fellow heroes.


	2. ACTIVATION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! The build is here. Double update because this has been in the draft for too long. Enjoy~

Another Stark Party was in full swing for a magazine spread honoring the reunification of the Avengers post dissolution of the Accords. The rogue members who were reabsorbed back into the team was featured as gig to straighten out records and capture the feeble heart of the public who was undoubtedly swayed by photos of topless Avengers smothered in body oil and portrait shots with a flower field as a backdrop. It was a cheap trick but it was the easiest and most effective way to gain public approval and your big conniving brain was behind it all.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?”

“Hey! I planned and executed this dump.” You eye the super soldier who just sidled up on the bar in front of you. You were behind it trying to look for something non-alcoholic knowing you were still going to drive yourself home after this.

Bucky chuckles and you smile back at him. You hand him a beer from behind the counter when you finally found something you could drink. You lean forward and smirk at the man before you.

“What?” he asks, feeling a little bit self conscious under your gaze so he starts tugging at his suit that was pressed to the nines.

“Nothing.” You shrug coolly. “Who would’ve thought that after biting off the heads of the three Public Relations managers before me you’d end up in the midst of all this.”

You gesture around the room non-committal with a smug look on your face. Bucky laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he does and you couldn’t help but lean a bit more towards him.

“Yeah, well I did try to bite you off a lotta times but you’re one tough cookie, sugar.” He points to you with the beer bottle. “Couldn’t get rid of you even if I tried.”

“Ugh, please don’t cause any trouble tonight? I’m wearing a really tight gown and six-inch heels and my boobs are up to my throat. I don’t think I can be as quick on my feet if shit goes down with this blocking the circulation of blood to my head.” You pout at him, your lower lip pushed out and Bucky couldn’t help but linger on it when it looked too luscious.

“No promises here but I think I wouldn’t be able to think of any trouble while this bow tie is choking me.” He winks at you, taking a drink of his beer and you scrunch your face.

You exchange a couple more jibes with each other and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the hawk like eyes from across the room.

“Look at our little Barnes flirting.” Natasha smirks as she sees you and Bucky laughing freely. “He’s such a dumbass it’s almost endearing.”

“They’re both dumbasses, you mean.” Sam follows the red head’s eye sight, also seeing the two of you looking at each other’s eyes lovingly. “Egh, nothing is professional about how they look at each other. Work relationship, my ass.”

“I think it’s cute. Barnes deserves a win and she needs to get a life outside work. Did you know she’s the last one to leave the department and the first one to arrive?” the spy sighs, pitying how dedicated you were in cleaning up her team’s messes. “That woman’s life revolves around us, might be good for her to actually benefit from it.”

The two nod in agreement, eyes lingering on their friend who was clearly trying to refrain from laughing too loudly at whatever you just said.

Three hours later, you’re on your way to your apartment to call the day quits, stopping by at a local bodega for some quick necessities. As soon as you exit the store you could feel eyes on you, confirmed by the heavy footfalls that echoed behind your steps on the sidewalk. You keep your head down and walk faster hoping that you were just being paranoid as usual. You cross the street and feel relief when you look back and find the sidewalk empty before you, rushing to bank one more corner until you’re home free. However, a couple of figures emerge from the shadows and trouble finds you unarmed.

“Hey, Stella. Where’s Y/N?” Bucky asks your assistant the following morning when you failed to show up for the morning briefing. Someone else was delivering the day’s schedule and took thirty minutes more than usual, your substitute’s knees shaking the whole time. Agreeably, the team missed your no nonsense attitude during briefs and the fact that you always brought them personalized coffee.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes. She called in saying she had an emergency but she’ll be around during your afternoon schedule. Did you need something?” Stella responds in her most calm manner despite the shaking of her hand, surprised that the super soldier was talking to her.

“No, not really. Thanks,” he waves her off and walks away, forehead creasing as he thinks that this was the first time you’ve skipped on a meeting since you became the team’s herder a year ago. Bucky brushes it off and catches up with the rest of the team.

The day’s schedule was fairly simple, it was a visit to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital to turn over hearts and other organs printed out of the regeneration cradle, courtesy of Stark’s tinkering on the machine. It was supposed to be a formal event but you suggested that spending time with the kids while some of them awaited operation and some were recovering would boost their morale. Of course the Avengers being big softies agreed in a heartbeat, no arguments and no questions.

Each member was playing with kids in various areas of the hospital, those who lost the rock-paper-scissors had to show up in their “costume” while the ones who won got to wear pre-approved civilian clothing. Sam was more excited to lose the game so he could show off his new exo-suit and a new and improved Red Wing, Steve still had to bring around his shield even when he was in normal clothes (you left a note to the stylists that he was _strictly not allowed_ to wear khaki pants that rose up to his belly button), Scott who was accidentally in New York had to wear his Antman outfit because sadly none of the kids knew him out of it, Natasha thought it would be inappropriate to wear her tactical suit even though she lost so she ended up wearing “normal” clothes as well, although nothing ever looked normal on her, and Bucky, well he won but the stylists gave him a shirt and a leather jacket without a left sleeve so he guesses he’s in costume as well.

The hospital walls were now replaced with laughter and warmth as the Avengers spread cheer and hope among its patients, staff and visiting families. Some tears were shed when kids spoke about their favorite heroes and what they meant to them. But somehow, where good blooms corruption always follow as some photographers and gossip mongers try to find juicy scoops within the charity event. Good thing you were great at your job.

You caught one of the allowed press trying to solicit bad comments from a parent of one kid who was going through chemo therapy.

“But don’t you think it’s kinda selfish that the Winter Soldier would not surrender samples of his blood? Since it’s laced with super serum, he never gets sick and does not appear to age.” The asshole posing as a journalist instigates. “Is it not fair of him to withhold that much medical advancement when your child is suffering?”

The mother’s face slowly changes from astonishment to confusion to something else more sinister. Before she could even react you pull on the man’s elbow and present him with a scowl. He looks at you smugly not even a trace of remorse on his features despite being caught red handed in dirtying up an Avenger.

“Sir? I think it’d be best if you left.” You push him out the door with one hand. “I’m revoking your pass.”

You yank on the clipped identification on his shirt when both of you were in the hallway.

“Why? Too scared that people actually remember you’re working for criminals?’ the man threatens, his hair was thinning on top and he looked like he had a perpetual five o-clock shadow. His shirt was not pressed and his pants had stains on them. “Scared that people will catch up on this whole ruse for that murderer in there?!”

You frown not really in the mood to get into an argument with someone who looks like he didn’t shower on the regular. You compose yourself and smile at him cordially, pointing your hand towards the elevators but the man only crosses his arms over his chest.

“Really, Sir? Don’t make me call security and have them drag your ass outta here in front of all these kids.” You try to reason with him but the man just scoffs and turns heading for another room.

You follow him, clutching your right arm that was currently throbbing under a cast. The doctor in the ER was right when she told you to skip work and rest for at least a day after she fixed your arm last night. You had barely put on your clothes earlier, struggling to squeeze yourself into a shirt and pull up your pants but you knew the team needed you to be around.

“Sir? Please leave, you’re disturbing these people.” You try again, this time dragging the man by his shirt out of the room he just came in. But the man was relentless, desperate to cause a commotion for a scoop on the Winter Soldier. He swipes your grip off him and shove you away from him.

“Get off, lady!” he yells out as your back slams harshly on the wall.

Bucky hears the commotion before he sees it, pushing a little kid with tubes attached to his nostrils in a toy car along the corridor while a couple of nurses trailed behind him. He sees yours face and immediately jumps in to help.

The balding man was pushing a hard finger on your shoulder as he accuses you of covering up for an international criminal amongst the mighty Avengers.

“You’re just a well paid whore!” Baldy fumes as he tries to poke you with a dirty finger but someone grabs on his wrist before he can touch you.

The man looks behind him and finds Bucky growling, slowly bending and twisting the offending hand off of you.

“Don’t fucking touch her, _Sir._ ” The brunette seethes, speaking through gritted teeth, eyes dark and menacing and every bit of the feared killer websites and gossip portals label him to be. You stare wide eyed at his grasp on the idiot mere inches from you.

Luckily, the security team from the hospital has been alerted and pulls the man away from the soldier, dragging him out of the floor and then entirely off of the premises. Bucky turns to you still pinned to the wall.

“You okay?” he asks, face now returning to its usual frown, the one you were used to.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Nothing I couldn’t handle—“

“What happened here!?” Bucky quickly pulls on the arm resting inside a cast and you yelp out in pain. He realizes what he just did and scrunches his nose in regret, slightly panicking at his own stupidity.

“Ow! I broke it last night.” You scrunch your own nose, trying to reel in the pain that shot on your arm. You really should have taken more of those pills given to you. “Some hoodlums tried to mug me since I was wearing a fancy dress.”

“You got what?!” Bucky stares at you in disbelief and a little bit of anger. “Why didn’t you call any of us?”

“Really?” you stare back at him incredulous but giggle at the expression on his face. “I don’t think a simple attempted mugging is within your danger bracket. You guys fight off terrorists not neighborhood folks who are too poor and too desperate they resort to stealing my purse.”

“I thought it was an _attempt_ to steal your purse?”

“It was. I didn’t give it up thus the broken arm.”

Bucky is now directly in front of you, his palm resting under your free elbow. His eyes were as tumultuous as a storm raging in an open sea, waves and thunder crashing against each other. Violent but somehow still beautiful.

“Buck—hey, what happened to your arm.” Your staring contest ends upon the interruption of another blue eyed Adonis whose face was etched with worry at the purple cast on your arm.

You clear your throat and explain everything to the captain, brushing off any worried sentiments from him, promising him that yes, you were really okay, and no, you didn’t need to call any of the Avengers for help with your measly neighborhood problems. You ultimately convinced both him and the brooding brunette that they should be worried more about the press conference downstairs rather than your arm.

You finally gather all the present Avengers in the open area outside that was set up for the interview, managing to repeat the answers to the previous questions about your arm. You were smiling to yourself at how cute everyone was being about your small injury when they literally brush off stab wounds and head injuries. They were currently lined up in a long table answering queries from the press and encouraging people and organizations to donate to the hospital.

After the event, everyone had a secret vote to send you home early to get some rest and to see Bruce the next day for an appointment with the regeneration cradle, insisting that it did not suit you to be wearing a cast while you were surrounded by super people. Captains orders so there was really no room for argument. You smile shyly at all the attention you were getting and nod a quiet thank you for their concerns.

“C’mon man, offer to drive her home. You can’t let her commute home when she’s that vulnerable.” Wilson, ever the schemer, baits Barnes into spending more time with you.

“That’s actually a good idea. We’ll see you back at the Compound.” Rogers agrees and gestures to where you were talking to some members of the Hospital Board.

“I—yeah, I mean it’s the least I can do.” Bucky hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn’t let a dame like you alone, not after what happened to you the previous night.

Sam snickers but pushes Bucky towards your direction, shooing him off. Before the latter could form a protest in his head, his two friends were already several steps away from him, leaving him in his own devices. So he gathers courage and approaches you, clearing his throat to catch your attention.

“Hey, I’ve been assigned to escort you home.” He says quietly, ear turning tomato red for some reason.

“Have you now? That sucks.” You taunt him. “I can manage alone, though.”

Bucky raises a brow and looks pointedly at your right arm. You look from him to your arm and sigh in defeat.

“Fine… all of you are such worry-warts.” You concede and lead the way out onto the street.

You grin at the brick wall of a man who just walked you to your apartment building some thirty minutes later.

“Well, this is me. And I’ve managed to get home scratch free.” 

Bucky looks around the street and observes that it looked pretty decent and not as rough as he had thought it to be. The sidewalks were well lighted and the buildings were fairly middle class. He looks back at you, trying to brush off his quick assessment.

“You’d be fine getting into your place? Not going to trip, fall and break your other arm?” he teases, hoping you’d hear it as such.

“Ha ha! Funny. I’m not usually clumsy, Mr. Barnes.” You make a face at him and hit his metal arm playfully, a reflex whenever someone teased you.

Bucky peers at the spot where your hand just touched him and he couldn’t help but copy your smiling face. You really didn’t care that he was able to crumple people into tidbits.

“I told you, it’s just Bucky.” He reminds you. “Good night, doll.”

“Right. Good night, _Just Bucky_.” You smirk and push your key in. Tilting your head back at him before disappearing inside. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

Bucky finds himself whistling a song from the 30’s as he drives all the way back upstate to the Compound.

The day had ended wistfully. You can feel yourself and Bucky getting closer than before, like two polar opposites of a magnet slowly detecting the presence of another and glacially moves nearer towards the other. You think of how truly wonderful he is despite what the news always insists about him or what other people’s opinions are. He was neither those things but at the same time he was. He had managed to evolve himself from a confused man thawed out into a time that he did not belong in, to a man who belonged exactly where he was.

You pull the sheets up to your chin, ready to succumb to a wonderful slumber, head filled with the thoughts of blue eyes that could warm you up like a cloudless sky on a sunny day. Your eyelids flutter shut while a small curve on your lips is visible despite the dimness. But a light flickering outside your window disturbs you as it hits your eyes despite the lowness of angle you lay in. You get out of bed to adjust your curtains, huffing a breath as you do when the light starts to emit a small pattern unbeknownst to you. With your hand on the curtain’s hem, your slightly annoyed demeanor slowly fades into a blank look while your pupils dilate eventually overtaking the color of your irises. Your body stands still near the window, breathing even like how one breathes when deeply asleep.

“Agent F-9P-111, Codename Dead Drop.” A voice can be heard echoing inside the bedroom, raspy to the ear but the words are as clear as a stadium announcement.

“Ready for assessment.” You respond immediately, voice monotonous, almost robotic even.

“Dead Drop, mission report.”

“Mission Report: Infiltration 18% - Target has grown overly fond of this asset. Estimate time until romantic involvement 34 days.”

“Proceed as planned. Acknowledge.”

“Order acknowledged.” You nod, eyes still blank like a human devoid of a soul; a shell of a person.

“End of assessment. Tu ad finem.”

You blink twice before readjusting the curtain, none the wiser to what had just occurred and return to your bed falling asleep as soon as you lay down your head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't forget to leave feedback! Thank you. ILY~


	3. ASSIMILATION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is sweet on the new PR manager. The team helps hasten the process of getting them together. A masked individual reminds the world of the Winter Soldier's sins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two final assessments next week and I'm PMSing hard. I have no motivation for anything in my life rn :(

There are days when you feel like your body is not your own. Sometimes it’s physical like clothes that usually fit suddenly do not one morning, food that you always crave suddenly taste bland, then sometimes it’s more of a state of mind when you experience things in a blur and a numbness, both foreign yet familiar. Like floating in a pool of water of unknown depth and the only thing afloat is your head while the rest is submerged and hidden away.

Days like these come and go. Sometimes it’s just for a day or two, other times it lasts more weeks that lead up to months. Yet no one seems to notice that you’re just sitting on the passenger seat while your body functions in autopilot that you didn’t even set up. It’s shitty but the hope that one day it will stop always sheds a little sunshine on what seems to be an endless gloom.

Days like today.

You’re swamped with work. A thing you’re good at and requires lesser brain and emotional power that you know you just don’t have enough of for when you feel this way. You’re going through it just like any other day in Avengers Tower and no one seems to notice that you’re not you. No one ever does. The price of being good at what you do.

“Ma’am?” one of your interns voice pulls you back into the conference room you were currently inhabiting.

“Could you please repeat that?” you clear your throat and shuffle aimlessly the photos on the table. You were trying to choose which to use for the quarterly magazine published by the Tower itself, akin to Vogue issues, same amazing photos but less fashion inclined and more like reports that could be made available to the public.

“Miss Potts called in to ask if you were going to be at the charity brunch? She says that they added an open forum and she needs you on deck.” The intern informs you while you stare at them a little too long, slowly putting together what they just said.

“Uhh, sure, I’ll be there. I just need to finish this.” You clear your throat again and return to shuffling around the hundreds of photos. It was going to be a long day if your brain short circuits at more than five words. “What time did she say it was?”

“Uhh, five minutes ago, Ma’am.”

You stare at the intern again.

“Shoot—“

The charity brunch was chaos wrapped with a pastel ribbon when you arrived. Half of the team was suppressing scowls as the questions got more ridiculous by the minute. Celebrity culture was oozing not from the heroes but from the mass of people who thought that asking the Black Widow, a deadly weapon all on her own, about her favorite brassiere was appropriate. Seeing Steve Rogers ball up his fists continuously was a rare sight but you didn’t want those fists to connect with any of the piranhas in the crowd so you pull the audio cables from the sound board with a grunt before appearing right next to the stage.

“Unfortunately, we’re experiencing a slight technical difficulty—the equipment aren’t Stark made—so we’ll resume once it’s fixed. In the meantime, please take note of your questions and enjoy the free buffet in the next room.” You say breathily and as patiently and cheerfully as possible while pointing to the doors. “Thank you for your understanding, esteemed journalists.”

A chorus of grumbles can be heard amidst the shuffling of feet and you take your time at individually thanking members of the media who pass by you. As soon as the conference room empties out, you turn and face a group of tired looking super heroes.

“I’m not around for five minutes and y’all almost get eaten, huh?” you smirk at them only to be responded with a unison of playful sneering.

You apologize for being late and tell them you’ll have everything fixed so they can go back to mingling at the actual charity event. But as soon as you usher them outside and you’re left alone with your thoughts, the dark mist in your head returns to its place. To make matters worse, you were surrounded by predators who had a bloodlust for gossip and slip ups from the people you worked for. You couldn’t wait for the day to end, preferably soon.

“Earth to dollface?” a deep, sultry voice echoes next to your ear as you zone out everything that was going around you. You startle and step back abruptly, spilling the drink in your hand in the process.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Bar—“ you cry out when you see your company but cut it short when he gives you _that_ warning look. “— _Bucky_. I didn’t mean to spill on you.”

“Nah, they’re just shoes. Plus I don’t wear them often.” He smiles as he looks at his ruined PR formal shoes then to you. And you just couldn’t help but mirror it. “You okay there? You seemed lost in thought.”

“I- yeah, I am—just have a lot on my mind is all.” You lie through a small smile and place your now empty glass on a passing server’s tray.

“Oh, I bet. We’re a rowdy bunch to look after.” Bucky gestures to the various Avengers scattered all over the venue. “You must be exhausted with us already.”

You shake your head in denial. This job was hectic and taxing, and yes you might be a little winded from having to juggle a thousand and one things at the same time but not once did you feel tired of helping the team out. Even when you were out of sorts today, you did not feel burdened by the responsibility of looking out for them.

“Hey, if you’re tired of our shit, you can say it out loud. I’m not going to get offended or anything. Or snitch on you at the others for that matter.” Bucky chuckles at your panicked expression. He likes it when you look less composed, he thinks it’s adorable when he’s the one who makes your business face crack. “It’s okay to feel that way.”

You were staring up at him in awe when a tear surprisingly escapes from your eye. You quickly wipe it away but Bucky already saw.

“I’m—oh my god, I don’t know what’s happening!” you quickly turn around in embarrassment. He was one of your bosses for crying out loud and here you were cracking under pressure and crumbling disgracefully.

“Are you okay?” Bucky has his hand on your shoulder as you try and control the sniffling from your nostrils. More tears were escaping and you feel your throat hitch up. Bucky discreetly pulls you to a quiet corner as you try and compose yourself.

“What’s going on?” he asks, voice laced with concern as you dab away the leaking on your face. You hadn’t notice but Bucky was rubbing your back to comfort you like how he used to comfort his baby sister when she was distressed.

“Nothing’s going on. I just—I’m…” you try to speak between sniffles. You compose yourself finally and stand straight before looking Bucky directly in his eyes. “Sometimes… I don’t feel like myself and I hate feeling that way because that’s not who I am.”

You visibly struggle with your choice of words, not wanting to violate your professional relationship with him. Somehow you manage to stop crying and try and force a smile on your face next.

“I’m sorry Mr. Barnes. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m okay, just not used to having my feelings validated.” You chuckle bitterly at how pathetic that must sound.

Bucky smiles back, the look he gives you is so soft and full of appreciation and admiration that it almost knocks the breath out of you.

“Well, if you stop calling me Mr. Barnes like I tell you ten times a day, I would gladly validate you some more.” He steps back and extends a hand out. You look at him then at his onyx hand. “Deal?”

Your heart skips a beat for some reason when you see him beaming at you. He looked better today than he usually did; hair in a half bun, a freshly pressed white button up and dark jeans that made him look like a living daydream.

“It’s a deal.” You finally respond once you snap out of your unprompted reverie. “ _Bucky._ ”

“Good.” He says with a smug look on his face. “Now, about your arm.”

You want to give yourself an ass whooping. You managed to avoid the topic for so long, two weeks to be exact, and now it caught up with you. It being Bucky and Dr. Banner strongly suggesting to have your broken arm fixed by the regeneration cradle in the Tower’s medical floor and you finding the lamest excuses to skip out on it. There were even days when FRIDAY had to remind you of the cradle appointment while you were inside the elevator.

But now, there was no escape and no excuses to be made. After Sam made fun of you looking like an injured fourth grader while trying to fight back gossip mongerers from the press, the Avengers voted unanimously to have you fixed as soon as the event was done. So here you were, watching the news on the television while your bone was being laser fixed.

Suddenly, the television screen crackles and fades into a rainbow colored background with the words STANDBY in the center. It crackles again and a person wearing a mask can be seen in the middle of the screen. A scuffle occurs outside the lab you were sitting in as more monitors in the medical bay showcase the same image from your television view.

“Citizens of the world…”

The masked person speaks in a distorted voice. His hands were clasped on top of the table in front of him as he addresses the camera. He looked like he was inside a high-rise building’s office as the window behind him showcases an eerily familiar skyline. Even the items on the desk stroke an uncanny churning in your gut.

“The Winter Soldier thinks that we have failed to see that he is forcing himself to assimilate among the mighty Avengers. That somehow by appearing next to Captain Rogers, we would forget all the horrible things he has done over the years. All the blood in your reputation cannot be wiped simply because now you’ve traded you knives and guns for a pen and signing of autographs.”

Meanwhile, in the top floor of the Avengers Tower, Sam Wilson increases the volume of the massive television sitting in the middle of the common area. Steve runs towards the area after the monitor on the kitchen started to broadcast the same thing. Bucky emerges from his room with a grim look on his face and stalks towards the area as well.

“It’s being broadcasted everywhere else, too. Tony’s trying to triangulate where the signal is from.” Natasha informs the team with her ear on the phone. She nods towards where Barnes stands when Sam looks back at her.

The world seems to stop as the message on their screen is being delivered. Electronic billboards all over the world were playing the same thing, a masked person name dropping key members of the Avengers with a threatening aura. People were stopping as looking up in Times Square as the message continues.

“The Winter Soldier must be held accountable for his sins. Blood for blood. HYDRA members were killed in cold blood without trial, without the opportunity to defend themselves just because their former employee decided to change teams. You should be treated the same Sargeant Barnes; killed where you stand.”

The video cuts and all screens fade to black for a couple of seconds before returning to their original broadcasts.

The machine fixing your arm finally stops its whirring and you collect your things, running to the elevator as soon as you do. You frantically push the number of the floor and hope to God that what you were thinking was going to be proved wrong.

“The broadcast wasn’t long enough to be traced accurately. The signal was pinging everywhere from Delaware to Butan to Vietnam. SHIELD wasn’t able to catch the real signal.” Natasha informs the team as she flops down the sofa.

Just then, the elevator doors open and you emerge from it out of breath and shaking. Bucky is the first to move from where he stood and approaches you. Steve follows behind him and calls out your name.

“Everything’s fine, SHIELD will assist in cleaning the media coverage with their own press release—“ the Captain offers but you shake your head as you try and compose yourself.

“Doll?” Bucky asks in concern. He has never seen you this rattled before by anything. “What’s going on?”

You take a deep breath and sigh shakily.

“I—I think they shot that death threat from my office here at Avengers Tower.” you say with a shudder.

Natasha pops out of her seat immediately and runs to the elevator, Sam tailing behind her. Steve moves for his phone while Bucky moves to envelope you in his arms, whispering assurances that everything was going to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to drop a kudos or a comment! Thank you~


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